The Knights were teaching the squire how to meditate. It wasn’t hard but many had never tried before, the deprivation of feeling was difficult for many to understand. It was fortunate basic church infrastructure was present on the planet Zephyr. On many worlds, especially those that forbade luddites or hunted them as criminals, the open floor plan of the luddic training ground was hard to find.

  Darkness was counter to most forms of human life. But among the luddites a special reverence was placed on the deprivation of senses. Where their love of simulation made them hedonists that desired more stimulation. Their love of reflection paired with the reduction of simulation.

  And so all absent the magus and his guards, in this instance Oscar and Ambrose sat, facing a wall about four feet in front of them. Just far enough they could have stretched and touched it. At the place, the corner, where wall met ground each knight, and the squire as well, watched a candle.

  Or rather not a candle, a false candle.

  The little block of wax coated wood or plastic held within a little battery, or failing that, a chord that plugged into a wall. The battery had no other purpose but to power a dim little light, which reflected off a plastic or metal surface that oscillated. Oscillation first from a pendulum that rigidly moved with the flickering little half mirror. Second from the inefficient release of heat from the little light. Not every one was the same. Indeed one who properly meditated was expected to be able to tell the difference between two false candles. The light projected by the little circuit was different for most, despite the clean quality control of factories that made most.

  Sometimes, or quite often, the less serious would acquire a hand made electric candle, and while it was not rude for a knight to have their own, ‘fancy’ or custom candle for meditation. Piety dictated that simple and cheap, often mass produced electric candles be used for this ritual.

  For a proper Luddic priest or monk, their candles would be nearly imperceptibly different. A priest of lore had documented hundreds of nearly identical candles using differential equations, it was a common math primer for the students of Ludd. The function of Grendel’s candle. In some decades Grendel would become controversial, as they distributed the information to manufacturers and their labor, ‘freely given’ was profited from.

  The knights were not practicing mathematics, or if they were it was a private matter, but the room was still with the surreal sunless darkness that remained punctuated by the shadows of outwardly healthy men sitting in various displays of relaxation or alertness before the unnatural and flickering dim light.

  If you asked the Magus of it they would begin to tell you of the mind cleansing virtues of sensory deprivation.

  It was not impolite to speak during meditation, it was impolite to not shut up.

  “Why haven't we tried to blow the monster up? Surely it is not immune to impact.”

  “Fear of collateral damage. Lack of explosives.”

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  “Surely we can shock the little pilot into a stupor.”

  “That is difficult to simulate.”

  “But what other weapons do we have? Our Amat barely scratched that little chest cavity.”

  “Perhaps we could burn it out, we have not tried heat, perhaps our own laser.”

  “We still barely know what it desires.”

  The room returned to silence and stayed in silence for twenty three more minutes.

  In meditation they were separate from the magus and the two who remained on duty.

  It was their most vulnerable time. The rest of their time was training, operating machinery, fitness, eating, normally at least one was in armor.

  Squire was a bad shot.

  Lopin was below the standard physical requirements, The Squire was flat out of shape. Charles himself passed by technicality not strength.

  This was to say nothing of the “Poor spirituality.” The knights were displaying on this remote planet. But there was no priest here, divinity existed out of churches as well. Somewhere in between the glaciers, the distant freezing ocean, and the Bram clone volunteers who kept breaking ankles as some sadistic ZRM Sargent kept distracting the physically perfect Gabriel with some abused Bram to rescue from the freezing and occasionally hungry wilderness.

  “Outreach” The politically minded called it.

  Gabriel was quite the diplomat. A smiling young face was worth a hundred warriors.

  The Magus had to inform Gabriel multiple times that the Brams were corporate assets, they didn’t own their own genetic code after all. Technically Gabriel was preforming undue labor for the syndicate, repairing and preserving and salvaging biological machines. Not that the actual syndicate employees appreciated the work. But what was the ZRM going to do? Shoot one of their most capable soldiers because he kept volunteering to instruct the volunteers?

  Strange as it sounds, the magus privately worried about this eventuality to Charles.

  Quoth Charles, “We are not the barbarians of old, and nor is this Zephyr Republic! They are all bound to look after their meek and ill-formed. Gabriel’s vigilance is widely honored even if his action is inconvenient.”

  Quoth Joseph the Magus “I have no doubt it aids us among all people’s of this planet, I worry it shall not help us though. I speak from a spiritually weak position. Perhaps it is only my useless anxiety.”

  And soon Charles and Lopin departed, boarding an aircraft that roared away with the marines. With luck they would see that little monster.

  “Thallium monster. Thallium technology, Thallium Finance.”

  The marines had pointed the knights to a public database before they left. Where anyone who looked could observe an apparent shell company website that upon further research was revealed to have filed a genuine syndicate patent for a variant of the model of the armored mech that the two inch dragon to slay piloted. “Thallium Group” The company was real, but their achievements vague and meaningless.

  The Magus was informed and only laughed. Ambrose claimed it was because the Magus knew that patents were always false information. Only written to obfuscate a trade secret.

  Now only six in number, Life became monotonous, boring even before the day ended. Wake, train, lecture, guard, sleep, wake, guard, meditate, simulate, lecture, wake, guard, eat, clean….

  The locals were fun, this was one of those planets where weaponry was a divinely given right. As a rat had teeth and a cat had claws, humanity had their hands and minds and thumbs.

  “Contradiction my comrades! A syndicate world without tyranny!”

  “They must not think it’s going to last long.”

  “A Glorious death must await us then!”

  “Bah! I hope a good game of Wesnoth is involved.”

  The knights were permitted to play a few rounds of Battle for Wesnoth during their meal times. Such was not considered a sin and a favored game of the Magus. And time slipped away. Only the knights in their routine looked upon the clock and saw that five hours had passed.

  “They have landed, How long do you think they shall take to observe the creature? Do you think it’s trail will be cold by now?”

  “I must sleep! I have guard duty in seven hours! Inform me of the news then!”